roat, which I at first glance
recognised as having formerly belonged to Jack Smith.

This article of toilet the woman seemed as determined on having as her
son was resolved on keeping. She probably considered it of some value--
enough, at any rate, to pawn for drink; and Billy's violent refusal to
give it up only roused her the more to secure it.

It was a revolting spectacle to watch, this struggle between mother and
child. The one sparing neither blow nor curse, the other silent and
active as a cat, watching every movement of his adversary, and ready for
the slightest chance of escape. The crowd, careless of the rights of
the case, cheered on both, and only interfered when the woman, having
secured the boy in her grip, bade fair to bring the interesting
encounter to too abrupt an end.

I dared not interfere, even if I had been able, but was forced to stand
wedged up in the crowd to watch the issue of the struggle. And it was
not long in coming. Amid loud cheers from the onlookers, Billy
contrived for the seventh or eighth time to wriggle himself free from
the clutches of his well-nigh frantic assailant, dealing her at the same
time a blow on the arm with the blacking-brush he had all along retained
in his hand. The surprise and pain of the blow, the jeers of the
bystanders, and the tipsy rage of the woman combined to drive her nearly
mad. With a fearful yell and threat she literally flung herself in wild
fury upon her little victim. But the wary Billy was too quick for her.
Stepping lightly aside, he eluded her reach, and left her to fall
forward with a heavy crash on the pavement amid the howls and cheers of
the brutal crowd.

Quick as thought the boy snatched up his box and brushes, and dived
head-first into the crowd just where I stood. There was a cry of "Stop
him!"

"Fetch him back!" on all hands, and one young fellow near me actually
made a grab at the poor boy and caught him by the arm. It was no time
for ceremony or parley. It had been all I could do to stand still and
watch the sickening spectacle. Now it should not be my fault if, just
to please a party of blackguards, the whole thing was to be repeated.

With an angry shout of "Let him go!" I sprang at the fellow and struck
him full on the chest. He dropped Billy as if he had been red-hot iron,
and turning with livid face to me, stared at me for a single moment, and
then tearing off his coat and clenching his fists rushed at me.

For a